


More than Yes

by ThatFeanorian



Series: Everything Goes Right AU [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Hate Sex, Hurt/Comfort, I just had to hurt them so then I could make it better, I swear they're in love, M/M, Mae shouldn't be consenting because he has issues, Marriage, NSFW, Panic Attacks, They figure things out, Verbal Abuse, a surprising amount of angst for this AU, but they don't really hate each other because they're madly in love, divorce that isn't really divorce, dub-con, finno is angry, learning how consent works, safe words, snuggles, super angry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:29:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29762430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatFeanorian/pseuds/ThatFeanorian
Summary: this is an absolute emotional rollercoaster in which Maedhros and Fingon learn how to forgive each other and the meaning of consent.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno & Maedhros | Maitimo, Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo, Fëanor | Curufinwë & Maedhros | Maitimo
Series: Everything Goes Right AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2187414
Comments: 9
Kudos: 24





	More than Yes

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! This is a little different from what I usually write so tell me what you think! This was supposed to be a shorter piece for tumblr but then my brain got away from me and things happened but the main takeaway is that Russingon is inseparable and that consent is important. Thanks to everyone who helps me write this au!

“Findekáno?” Maedhros’s voice is soft and hesitant as he inches his way onto the opposite side of the bench, leaving easily a foot of space between the two of them. After all, was it not he who ruined what should have been the happiest moment of their lives? Fingon sits hunched in on himself, arms wrapped tightly about his middle and when he speaks his voice is hoarse and cracking,

“Why the fuck are you here?” Maedhros cringes, resisting the temptation to reach out with his mind and to tell Fingon everything that he can’t in words. He wants to explain, to share the deep burning love he has for his brothers, to show Maglor’s tears and fear, to help Fingon feel the truth that he feels: He cannot leave his brothers alone again. But Fingon’s mind is surrounded by hard angry walls and it hurts when Maedhros gets too close. He feels so  _ empty _ without Fingon’s thoughts in his mind.

“I-- I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” Fingon looks up, and there is anger burning in his eyes, the equal at least of the worst flames Maedhros has seen within his father’s.

“Sorry?” He says incredulously, “Sorry doesn’t cut it, Nelyafinwë. You told me you wanted to break our marriage when it was just made. You told me you wanted to leave me all alone again and run off with your insane father. YOU TOLD ME YOU DIDN’T WANT ME.” He takes a deep breath, composing his face back into a horribly blank expression, devoid of the usual spark that lights his eyes.

“You should go. I have no desire to talk to a Fëanorian.” Maedhros cannot find it within himself to pretend that does not knock all the wind out of his chest. 

“Findekáno, Finno… You-- that’s not true, please let me explain. I-- I love you!” For a moment, Fingon’s terrible mask of nothingness breaks, and Maedhros’s heart leaps. The spark is back, and his face is alight with hope and wonder and love, and Maedhros is sure that Fingon will forgive him.

“You-- You traitorous, scheming, disgusting, pathetic snake!” Fingon shouts, glaring at Maedhros and Maedhros’s heart freezes where it had lept hopefully into his throat. 

“You can’t-- How dare-- I fucking hate you Nelyo! How could I ever have loved you? You’re a manipulative, sadistic asshole just like your father, and I’m done letting you play with my heart. You love me.” He scoffs, “You couldn’t love your own mother enough for her to stay with you. You couldn’t love your own brothers enough to keep them with you. You’re pathetic. How could anyone ever love you.” Fingon’s blazing eyes bore into Maedhros’s heart, slowly tearing it apart piece by piece, shredding it so methodically and fully that Maedhros knows for certain that it will never be repaired. Fingon leaps to his feet and points a condemning finger down at Maehros, screaming,

“You can’t do this to me. I hate hate hate hate hate you. Forever. You can’t just turn around and rip me in half and then tell me it’s all okay and that you love me and everything’s fine. You-- we-- I’m done NELYAFINWË! I’m done.” Maedhros is breaking, drowning in his own inadequacy because Fingon is right. Maedhros doesn’t deserve Fingon and he never has and he has broken the only thing that made his life worth living: his love for Fingon. 

“F-Finno…” he whispers, unable to accept defeat, unable to leave quite yet, his hand still clenched around their wedding rings,

“Please… I can’t-- I know I was wrong. You shouldn’t love me, but-- but I can’t live without you.” Fingon stumbles backwards, looking disgusted,

“Well, you should have thought of that before. I’m done letting you break me and then pretend to love me only to smash me to pieces again.” His voice is hard and cold, and Maedhros feels tears overflowing from his eyes, fully aware he looks a snivelling pleading mess as he reaches for the hem of Fingon’s robes if only to have some part of him to touch, to love…

“Finno--”

“Don’t ‘Finno’ me, Nelyafinwë,” his voice is high and tremulous and he sounds at the edge of tears, “I don’t want you anymore, do you hear me?” Maedhros wishes he were stronger, that he could walk away and leave Fingon when clearly all he wants is to be alone, to be rid of Maedhros forever, but he can’t. He can’t. He is even more afraid of losing Fingon than he is of going against his father and that is why he is here, isn’t it? And doesn’t Fingon need to know that?

“P-please.” he whispers brokenly, “I wish-- I know I’m not good enough for you, but please listen?” Fingon’s face curls in disgust and anger and his hands clench into fists but after a moment those emotions disappear and he is left looking exhausted, so incredibly tired and resigned that Maedhros almost cannot bear it. 

“Fine. Speak. I can’t stop you and you know me to well to expect me to say no.” Maedhros takes a deep breath, cringing at Fingon’s words but determined to get these last few words out before he leaves forever. Fingon deserves to know the truth, even if that truth won’t change anything. 

“Findekáno,” He murmurs, and the name is just as sweet on his tongue as it always has been. 

“Findekáno, I-- I don’t deserve you. You should hate me for what I’ve done to you and even if someday you find it in your heart to forgive me, I will not be able to forgive myself. I wish-- oh, Valar, I wish I were strong enough to tell my father no. Maybe then I’d be worthy of your attention, but I’m not.” He hangs his head, 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t as good as you deserve. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I chose him over you and I’m sorry that I thought that that was right. It wasn’t. I-- nothing matters as much as you do. I know that now, but it wasn’t soon enough. If you want--” This part will hurt to say, Maedhros knows that, but it has to be said nevertheless for Fingon will not want it any other way and Maedhros needs to tell him that is okay. 

“If you want to never see me again, I promise I will stay away. That’s all. I can-- I can go now if that’s what you want.” Maedhros raises his eyes to meet Fingon’s and swallows hard, twisting his hands in his lap, the two rings still clutched between them. Fingon makes a strangled noise, his face a tangled mix of emotions before he finally bursts out,

“Oh, I hate you Maitimo. You’re the most terrible excuse for a nér I’ve ever seen. You-- you--” He seems to be grasping at straws, completely unable to express just how much he dislikes Maedhros, and Maedhros takes a deep breath and stands up, making to walk away from him, but Fingon grabs his wrist, fingernails biting into Maedhros’s skin,

“Don’t you  _ dare _ walk away from me, Russo, I’m talking to you,” and despite the fact that his tone is icy cold and that his fingers hurt on Maedhros’s wrist, Maedhros’s heart jumps into his throat at the sound of that name, of  _ his _ name. 

“You are the single worst person I have ever met and I am never ever going to forgive you, you worthless piece of garbage. How  _ dare _ you make me feel sorry for you after what you did. I-- fuck you! I-- I--” and just as Maedhros is convinced that Fingon is going to bestow some sort of irrevocable curse on him, he leans forwards and smashes his lips against Maedhros’s, hungry, desperate, and punishing. This isn’t enough, not nearly, but at least it is something and Maedhros is too terrified to do anything but lean into it; scared of leaving, scared of staying and scared most of all of Fingon leaving him. 

“You are the worst nér I’ve ever known,” He says finally pulling back and squeezing Maedhros’s hand so tightly that it hurts, the other fisted in his hair pulling his head back to bare his neck as Fingon dives down, biting and sucking and bruising as he goes. Still, in the midst of emotional crisis, Maedhros cannot keep in the wanton moan the is drawn from his lips as conflicting thoughts of too much and not enough scream in his mind warring with each other but drowned out by Fingon who is touching him and keeping him grounded and reforming him into something new. 

“I hate you,” Fingon growls against his skin, his fingers tearing at Maedhros’s hair and clothes, and Maedhros nods, promising him anything, everything as long as Fingon stays. 

They tear back through the garden, Fingon pulling him by his hair with no regard for the curious peeking eyes of the servants that they pass, and before the heavy door of Fingon’s room closes behind them, Maedhros is bare before his love, his life, his everything as Fingon pounces on him, fingernails digging deep into Maedhros’s back and drawing blood. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you… never should have left... I’ll stay forever... please...” Maedhros babbles as Fingon, still clothed, throws him down onto the bed, his eyes flaming with emotion, and fists his hands in Maedhros’s hair. He snarls into his lover’s mouth and Maedhros melts into him, spreading his legs and arching up, desperate for anything and everything that Fingon is willing to give him before they are parted forever. And he deserves this, he deserves to be punished, to be hurt, to be pushed to the limits of what he can endure because if that is what will make Fingon feel better and accept him again than Maedhros would endure it a thousand times over. 

Fingon’s hands move downwards squeezing and pinching, his lips following in their wake until he gets to what has, no doubt, been his destination this whole time. Maedhros tenses slightly as Fingon’s fingers probe at his hole but then forces himself to relax. If this is what Fingon wants then Maedhros wants it too. He has to. Fingon is everything to him. Fingon’s hand draws away and Maedhros tenses even more: has he done something wrong? Is Fingon going to leave now? Is this the end?

“Russo.” Maedhros opens his eyes, which he didn’t even realize were squeezed shut, and whines a little, hoping that he sounds suitably desperate, as he had been earlier when Fingon had seemed pleased to just possess his body. 

“Russo, are you breathing?” Maedhros nods, looking confusedly up at Fingon who has frozen above him, his hands still in Maedhros’s hair. Releasing a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding in, Maedhros forces a few breaths in and out to prove his point and waits for Fingon to continue, but Fingon instead withdraws further, pulling his hands away from Maedhros and placing them in his lap. 

“No!” Maedhros says wildly, reaching out to grasp anything of Fingon that he can touch, “Don’t leave, please, I can’t… I know it’s selfish and I shouldn’t want-- but please don’t go.” Fingon sucks a breath in and hesitantly reaches out a hand, placing it on Maedhros’s arm.

“Nelyo, I won’t go anywhere, I promise, but I need you to breathe for me right now, okay?” Maedhros nods and focuses on his breath for a few minutes and slowly, the room around him stops spinning out of focus and he relaxes. Fingon smiles reassuringly and Squeezes his arm,

“Remember what we said before, at the beginning of all this? How we would have a word to say if we didn’t want to do something?” Maedhros nods, wondering what this has to do with anything, 

“Yes, elm-tree, alalmë.” He whispers in response, feeling unsteady and unsure of himself. Fingon’s hand drifts down and clasps his and Maedhros squeezes it back, feeling grounded by its presence and brave enough to ask,

“Why?” 

“Nelyo, can you be honest with me?” Maedhros frowns, confused by the change in topic yet again,

“Yes, I think so?” Fingon squeezes his hand reassuringly and meets his eyes, looking very serious,

“Russo, did you want to use that word just now? I… it sort of felt like you did, but you… you didn’t say it.” Maedhros shakes his head vehemently. 

“No! I wanted you to be happy! Everything was okay.” Fingon shifts closer to him and a crease appears between his brows,

“Yes, but did you want to be doing what we were doing?” Maedhros falters, unsure how this is different and repeats weakly,

“I wanted you to be happy.” The crease deepens, and Maedhros is no longer sure what Fingon wants to hear, no longer sure how to make his love happy.

“But did… did  _ you _ want to be fucked just then?” Maedhros watches Fingon’s face, trying to look for some clue to what his answer is supposed to be and Fingon, seeming to know what he is thinking whispers,

“The truth, Nelyo, please? I don’t care what your answer is I just want to know.” Maedhros thinks hard about this, the truth. He had thought that the truth was yes, but the tone in Fingon’s voice makes him doubt it. Did he want it? He wanted… he had wanted to make Fingon happy, yes, that was always true, and he had wanted to keep Fingon from leaving. And perhaps he had been afraid of the part where it would hurt, perhaps he hadn’t liked it when Fingon was hating him and hating him and hating him and all Maedhros had wanted was to tell him that he was sorry… but that was all worth it, right? Maedhros searched Fingon’s face one last time before slowly and hesitantly shaking his head,

“I… I wanted you to stay and to stop hurting… but I think that maybe I-- I didn’t want all… that.” Fingon’s grip on his hand was incredibly tight and Maedhros wiggled his fingers, trying to escape the bone-crushing grasp.

“Russo, I-- why didn’t you say something? You told me you would use the word when you didn’t want--”

“But-- but I did! I wanted to make you happy and I thought that that would make you happy! Are you-- are you not happy?” Fingon let out a choked sob and let go of Maedhros’s hand to bury his head in his own. 

“I-- oh Russo I’m happy that we stopped if that is what you want to know, but I’m not happy-- not happy at all that you didn’t stop me before. What if I hadn’t realized that you were upset? What if we had kept going? I thought-- no, we agreed that we would tell each other when to stop.” Maedhros pushed himself up, moving into a sitting position beside Fingon and pulling his hands away from his face so that he could wipe away the tears gathering in the corners of Fingon’s eyes.

“But you  _ did  _ know. And it didn’t happen, and I’m sorry I messed up again.” This felt right, comforting Fingon, caring for him, loving him, this felt good and natural and slowly, everything fell back into place inside of him as the last lingering bubble of fear popped somewhere in his chest. Fingon’s hands reached up and clasped his and Fingon sniffed, wiping angrily at his eyes,

“No! No, I’m sorry I’m breaking down like this, I shouldn’t be, not when you were the one who almost-- who almost-- but you’re right it didn’t happen and we’re both okay and you  _ didn’t _ mess up, Nelyo, you-- well I mean you did when you almost ruined the single most important day of my life, but then everything that came after was our fault together and probably mostly mine. I didn’t think-- I thought--  _ Russo _ .” 

“I love you, Finno,” Maedhros says quietly, unsure what else there is to say, but this seems to be enough because Fingon relaxes in his arms and allows Maedhros to slowly guide the two of them back onto the bed so that they are laying next to each other, Fingon’s head on Maedhros’s still nude chest. 

“I knew you did.” Fingon whispers in response, “Even when you said that you would foreswear our marriage, I could feel that you did.” Maedhros shivers in the cool air and Fingon sits up, dragging a warm wool blanket from the foot of his bed and wrapping it around Maedhros’s naked form, wrapping himself around the blanket around Maedhros. A breeze ruffled the smooth silk curtains beside Fingon’s bed and Fingon curled closer to Maedhros, burying his face in Maedhros’s tangled mussed hair.

“What will your father say if he finds out you came back for me?” He says finally, unwillingly,

“I don’t know.” Maedhros whispers in reply, “I doubt he will be happy.” Fingon smiles into Maedhros’s hair, resisting the urge to kiss him,

“And yet you came back anyway?” Maedhros turns around, his silver eyes meeting Fingon’s blue ones,

“I’ll always come back for you, my Finno. I don’t care what he says.” Fingon feels the weight of the promise and snuggles against Maedhros’s side, content with the knowledge that they have an eternity to follow and search for and always find each other, and that no one, not even the great and mighty Fëanor, can keep them apart.


End file.
